


Made of Fire

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene kisses like a fantasy, but one made of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made of Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basaltgrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/gifts).



Gene oughtn't to be real.

 

He kisses like a fantasy, but one made of fire. He's a tower of bulk and strength and heat at Sam's back, lips at the nape of Sam's neck, gripping painfully hard at Sam's waist, fists balling up his shirt, yanking it out of his waistband.

 

At other times, he's shy. This unnerves Sam, even as he appreciates the chance to lead. Gene Hunt should never be shy. But there are things he's not comfortable asking for yet, things he only initiates by bringing their faces close together, closing his eyes, giving Sam a wonderful view of his eyelashes...and then lifting Sam's hand to his mouth and taking in two fingers to rest on his tongue. Those times, Sam fucks him. And if Sam enjoys it a little too much? Well, that's just the DCI in him striding into the light.

 

Sam has the most trouble distinguishing between realities when Gene kisses him awake. It's one thing living within a coma dream, quite another asleep and standing atop a skyscraper, vaulting the railing and being drawn up into the sun, up into smooth arms and warm sheets, finding Gene's hair between his fingers, a knee between his thighs.

 

There are downsides, to everything. He didn't wear aftershave before, and it's just as well, because Annie notices that sort of thing and he has to ask Gene to stop using it too or it'd be a dead giveaway. His open neck shirts are an issue, as well. He 'cuts himself shaving' a lot these days. Gene takes a perverse kind of pleasure in peeling off the big square plasters when they get home from the pub, brushing his fingertips over the marks. Sam would be annoyed by Gene's obvious enjoyment at giving Sam bruises, if he didn't like it so much himself.

 

And that's the crux of it, ultimately. Nothing in Sam's past (or future) has ever indicated he should want a relationship with a man, let alone a possessive boss with long skinny limbs and a beer belly. He shouldn't need all this give and take so much; they shouldn't fit together like broken pieces of ceramic with the edges pressed into alignment, blunt grooves and garish patterns.

 

Sam's not entirely sure Gene isn't a figment. Because only his twisted mind could give him an answer so complex and yet somehow logical. But Gene is what he is, and Sam is grateful.


End file.
